According to a Source

by Abby Stern

  The Life: Report: Twentysomething CW Bad Boy Heartthrob Overdoses on Drugs

  I just saw him. I can’t believe this. My mind is shaking and so is my body and I swerve as I glance down at my phone again to confirm that I’ve read what I think I’ve read and the tragedy doesn’t have time to sink in because I hear police sirens and a voice directing me to move to the side of the road. My heart sinks and from nerves I feel like I could projectile vomit on my dashboard. The cop must’ve seen me swerve. Thanks to my love of movies and TV I know exactly what’s about to happen. The officer approaches my window.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of your vehicle.”

  * * *

  I arrive at the police station and there doesn’t seem to be any rush booking me. I’m escorted through the door and this is one exclusive back room I wish I was never escorted into.

  “Klick, female DUI to book and process,” my arresting officer calls out, passing me off to the female officer. Officer Klick takes a sip of her station coffee and looks me up and down. I can’t help but notice she’d be so pretty if she weren’t in the middle of arresting me. She’s about fifteen years older than I am with caramel hair pulled into a tight bun, and her hands are delicate.

  “Don’t worry. This one isn’t a troublemaker.”

  She takes another sip of her coffee before she takes the reins and takes me to the photo area. “You okay?” she whispers.

  “Yes.”

  She uncuffs me. “Don’t smile, and look remorseful,” she advises. I give my best mea culpa pose, a far cry from the selfies I was taking with Sexy Indie Film Actor a few hours ago. Sadly, no amount of filters or Facetune can help the embarrassment of this particular type of photo. Though Officer Klick is no Patrick Demarchelier, I’m channeling the same somber harrowed look that I’m sure he gives as art direction when shooting models for editorials. That look where I’m glancing off in the distance, pensive and starving. She then takes me to a desk where I’m fingerprinted and she takes my purse, including my phone.

  “You can make your phone call now.” She hands me the receiver for the landline and I hesitate. This call is going to be worse than facing the judge at my arraignment because there is only one person I can call. I dial and almost hope she doesn’t pick up.

  “Hello?” Robin grumbles when she finally answers her phone. I’m sure she’s confused by the caller ID.

  “Robin, it’s me. I know you’re working but—”

  “El, what is it?”

  “Robin, whatever you do please don’t hang up. Please. I’m at the Hollywood Hills police station. I got a DUI. I’m okay. No one was hurt, but I need you to bail me out when your shift is over.” Silence. “Please. Robin?” I plead.

  “My shift ends at 6 A.M., you’ll have to wait,” she says and hangs up. I know I have more than a lecture coming my way, which I deserve this time. I’m probably lucky that she is at work and didn’t have time to draw our conversation out. I hang up and slump my head into my hands. I take in the humid smell of the station and the chipped paint on the neutral walls.

  “Do you need to go to the restroom before I take you to the holding cell?”

  “Yes.” I want a minute to collect myself before I’m locked up.

  “Right through that door.” I follow her index finger and open the door she’s gesturing to. I avoid looking in the mirror and splash some water on my face. It’s only a few hours. I can do this. As I return from the bathroom, Officer Klick lets out a loud shriek. My heart jumps. What’s going on? Are we under attack? Did Jess hear about my arrest and organize a “Free Ella” jailbreak? Officer Klick sees the terror on my face and apologizes.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Warren. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” She looks at her phone again. “It’s a silly celebrity thing. I got an alert on my phone.”

  “What celebrity thing?” I’m panicked. What could it be or who could it be? I know it’s not good news.

  “Twentysomething CW Bad Boy Heartthrob died.”

  I feel woozy and like I’m about to faint.

  “Can I sit for a second?” Officer Klick pulls the chair out of the desk for me. “I can’t believe this. I was with him earlier tonight.”

  “You were?” Her eyes widen, even though I’ve just been arrested for a misdemeanor. Even in LA, fame is a currency.

  “Yes. And you’re sure that’s what your news alert said?”

  She holds the face of her phone up to me to look at. “That’s what The Life said. And I trust whatever they say.”

  “Yeah, well, you should. I work for them,” I grumble.

  Officer Klick’s already kind demeanor mellows even more. “Really? What was he like?” I’ve gone from prisoner to person of interest.

  “I feel bad saying this now but he was kind of an asshole, honestly.” My tears, which don’t ever seem to go away anymore, resume.

  “It’s okay. He’s in a better place now,” she affirms.

  “No, it’s not that,” I sob. “It’s just … I have to e-mail my file on him into my boss with all of my observation on him tonight or I’ll get fired. If I don’t get her every detail for this breaking-news story, I’m done. I probably deserve it.” I grimace. “Can you just lock me up so I can sit for a bit?”

  “No. Not yet.” She leans over her desk and grabs me a tissue. “I’m not really supposed to do this but you haven’t caused any trouble so here’s something for your good behavior.” She hands me my iPhone and I feel like I’m being handed Excalibur. “Can you do it in ten minutes?”

  “Yes! Oh my God. Thank you! I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything, just type,” she orders. I’m forever indebted to Officer Klick for helping me. I unlock my phone and copy and paste my notes into an e-mail and add color and additional details as fast as my motor skills will allow. I’m able to complete my file with Twentysomething CW Bad Boy Heartthrob and this time have to include Sexy Indie Film Actor, since this story is too big to omit any details. I hit Send in seven minutes and return my phone to her.

  “Thank you again, really. You saved my job.”

  She smiles but I know it’s time for me to trade my cell phone for the holding cell. She guides me by my arm and I’d give anything to hear clinking glasses toasting to glamour and love instead of my cell door clinking shut. I sit on the bench and make an effort to close my eyes and rest but it’s impossible. I stare at the wall, playing out all of the possible scenarios of what will happen when Robin picks me up. I really have no idea how she’s going to react. All I know is I’m in a lot of trouble, with the state of California and with her. Around 8 A.M. Officer Klick returns to my cell.

  “Warren, you made bail,” she says, opening up the cage to my freedom. I step out and relish the reality that I can once again walk left or right as far as I want and vow never to end up here again.

  “Thanks.”

  Her former pleasantries become earnest. “I don’t want to see you back here, Ms. Warren.”

  “You won’t. I promise.”

  “No job is worth your life. Besides, you’re too pretty to end up in a real jail and inmates don’t look too kindly on spies and narcs.” She opens the door and releases me into the lobby where Robin is waiting with my bail bondsman. She’s exhausted and she looks it. She looks almost as bad as I look in my mug shot. Her mouth is so tense I can almost hear her grinding teeth. Her eyes pierce into mine with contempt and her folded arms indicate that if we weren’t in a police station where she’d be arrested on the spot, she would murder me.

  “Now, Ms. Warren, do not miss your scheduled court appearance or there will be a warrant issued for your arrest.” She hands me a paper to sign for the receipt of my things.

  “She’ll be there,” Robin tells her. “I’ll make sure of it.” She went from staring me down to not being able to look at me.

  Officer Klick hands me a stack of papers. “Here’s all of the information for court and instructions on how to recover your vehicle.” Mo
re important, she returns my purse and my phone. I grasp the device, ecstatic to be reunited, and don’t want to let go.

  Robin snatches the papers away from me and pushes me out of the police station with the heavyset sweaty bail bondsman following.

  “Thank you so much,” Robin tells him, shaking his hand. “I’ll be in touch.” She turns and grabs me and gives me the biggest, tightest hug I’ve ever received from her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine. Luckily I was the only one in holding for the evening so I didn’t have to endure the uncomfortable ‘what are you in for’ discussions with other criminals.” She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m hungry,” she says before going radio silent. I’m unnerved by Robin’s reticence but I’m not mistaking it for compassion quite yet. I don’t know if I should be worried or feel relieved. We ride in silence until she pulls into a twenty-four-hour diner on Ventura Boulevard. It’s bustling inside, with parents treating kids to a special Friday breakfast before school, people fresh off the graveyard shift sitting at the counter having a meal before they go to bed, and sprinkled in are the eccentric characters of Los Angeles arguing with each other, one guy who’s cutting his toast with a fork and knife. These people are complete enigmas, but I find them fascinating to watch and wonder about their daily lives—usually, not today. An older waitress in her 1950s uniform, who’s clearly overworked this morning by the very noticeable scowl on her face, skulks over to us moments after we slide into a booth.

  “What’ll it be?” she asks. I place my phone on the table, so happy to be reunited, and pull a menu out from between the napkin dispenser and the wall.

  “I’m kinda dying for pancakes.” I look to Robin for an iota of emotion or an opinion but her face is rigid. “Should I? I think that being arrested is as good as any excuse for a diet cheat day.” Still nothing from Robin. “I’ll have the short stack. Can you heat up a little syrup and bring that out with the order? Having hot syrup really makes all the difference, don’t you think?” Neither of them respond.

  “Just coffee and toast for me,” she says as she returns the menu, still avoiding making eye contact with me.

  “Great, big spenders,” the waitress mocks as she scribbles down our order. I lean my head back still in disbelief about my evening. Robin continues to stare at everything but me and I know that even though she’s probably going to yell at me, I have to express my deep gratitude for her bailing me out literally and figuratively.

  “Thanks again, Robin. I know bailing me out of jail wasn’t exactly on your weekly to-do list.” I take a breath to punctuate my sincerity. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Really? That’s funny because you certainly don’t treat me like that.”

  My filler-free forehead wrinkles at her accusation and I jump to my defense. “That’s not true—” I try to tell her but she doesn’t want to hear anything from me. She puts her hand up for me to stop and plows right through my attempt to explain.

  “You treat me like your boring, burden of an older sister that has a stick up her ass that you tolerate only when necessary. Do you ever call me to actually do anything with me? We haven’t been to a movie or out for a meal together on our own in forever.” Her face moves like Silly Putty because it can’t settle on being angry or hurt and keeps converting between the two. “If it weren’t for Marianna I would have barely seen you the past four years and you’re only around more now because of Mom.”

  “Robin, it’s not my fault we don’t do anything together. You never want to do anything fun,” I tell her.

  “Fun? That’s all you ever think about is fun. Ella, you have to grow up,” she clamors. Her cheeks tighten, which always happens when she goes into her auto know-it-all mode. “For goodness’ sake, I just bailed you out of jail!” She shakes her head in all directions in disbelief that I’m not immediately conceding. “You have to stop caring about the wrong things and stop being so self-centered. The Earth doesn’t revolve around you.”

  I know she just helped me but she’s taking it too far and her accusations incense me. Despite my gratitude I can’t stay mum. “You’re the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever met. With the audacious way you revise history when it’s convenient for you, you really should’ve gone into creative writing or been a politician.” I take a gulp of air and continue. “You think I need to grow up? My mistakes aren’t taking anything important away from you.”

  Robin releases her pointer finger from her clenched fist and it’s obvious that she’s going to follow it with her middle and ring fingers to make a list with a visual aid of the reasons why she believes my statement is incorrect but I refuse to let her interrupt. “When I was growing up, Mom and Dad never had time to come and watch me at tennis camp or take me to the playground or do anything with me because they were always tending to you.” I look her right in the eyes to let her know I’m not backing down, but Robin shakes her head in denial. “You can’t pretend with me, Robin. I grew up with you. This facade of perfection you’ve constructed is bullshit. I know what a mess you were before you were an egomaniacal doctor. And not only were you reckless, you were selfish.” Robin rolls her eyes, still trying to discredit my memories and the truth. “You didn’t care that you took all of our parents’ time and attention because of your behavior. You took that from me during my childhood and by the time you got your life together Dad was gone. You stole my time!” My face feels like it’s burning and flushed with redness. I’m screaming at her now and thank God there aren’t any other customers here.

  “I’m sorry that you didn’t get as much time with Dad as I did. I’m sorry I’m older. I can’t fix that, Ella. It’s not like I expected him to have a heart attack and die.” I can feel tears coming again and this is why I’ve always avoided this conversation. “Dad’s death didn’t affect me less because I had more of his attention. I only had negative attention from him. Do you know how that feels? I have to live with that regret every day and nothing will ever make it better. Our father loved us both but he only knew me as a mess, not as an accomplished doctor or the caring mother that I am today. I will always have contrition about that but I let it go. I had to. You have to let it go or else we will never have a shot at a real relationship.”

  I turn my head away with purpose. “This isn’t even about me!” she shouts. “But I’m shocked you even paid attention to me, just being an anonymous doctor. All you’ve ever cared about are celebrities.”

  “You’re wrong and you know it, so you’re reaching. That is not true,” I contend. I don’t want to continue this conversation so I pick up my phone to distract myself and open my e-mails.

  Robin irrately reaches across the table, grabs my phone from my hands and browses frantically.

  “Hey! Give that back!” I extend my arm in an attempt to recover my iPhone and she leans farther back in her seat to hold me off until she finds what she’s looking for.

  “Look!” She turns the screen to face me. “You don’t have photos of any real people in here. It’s all screenshots of your articles and selfies with celebrities—the only people you deem worthy of your attention don’t even know your real name. Who the hell are you?” I fold my arms in front of me and my skin feels like it’s about to explode as my blood bubbles beneath it. Robin notices and shifts her tactic and tries compassion. “The Ella I know doesn’t get DUIs and need to be bailed out of jail. Do you even recognize yourself anymore?” The disappointment in her voice is heartbreaking.

  I pause before I answer. I realize I have no tears left to cry, which is probably some sort of an ironic metaphor for my empty soul. “No,” I answer honestly. I look down at the floor, disappointed in myself. I notice an empty container of cream and packet of raw sugar on the floor that haven’t been swept up from a previous customer.

  “Then it’s time to make a change.” She moves over to my side of the booth. “I know this has been a tough year for you but you have to start taking some accountability. Everyth
ing with Holiday, Nick, this DUI … these aren’t mistakes. These are choices.”

  I feel dizzy.

  “You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

  The waitress arrives with our order.

  “You still have time to make it right with everyone,” she contends.

  “How?” I feel helpless. I don’t know how to even begin.

  The waitress interrupts with our food.

  “Coffee, toast, and a short stack with warm syrup.” The waitress smirks. “Oh, goody, we’re having a feel-good moment. How lovely.”

  Robin ignores her. “My offer still stands. You can live with me for a while until you get back on your feet. I’ll help you out with your legal fees and you can help me with Marianna and you go to every single doctor’s appointment and chemo treatment with Mom.” She hands me a napkin to use as a tissue.

  “Thank you. And I promise I’m going to pay you back.” I have no idea how but I will.

  “We can figure all of that out later,” she says. “And Ella, I am sorry. I never meant to consume all of Mom and Dad’s time or overshadow you in any way.”

  “Thanks. I know it wasn’t intentional and you were just a teenager. I guess I just needed to know that you knew your rebellious years affected me, too.…” I trail off. Hearing her apologize and accept responsibility without qualifying it or adding any sort of defense is what I’ve been waiting years to hear.

  “Maybe everything that’s going on in our family happened for a reason. Maybe Mom and your DUI are the universe’s way of helping us find our new dynamic.”

  I raise my eyebrows. I’ve never heard Robin, a woman of logic and science, speak like this. “Universe?”

  She raises her shoulders. “What can I say, you’ve been rubbing off on me.”